


First Sunrise

by Meadz



Category: Zero | Project Zero | Fatal Frame Series, Zero: Tsukihami no Kamen | Fatal Frame IV: Mask of the Lunar Eclipse
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Post-Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 07:26:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meadz/pseuds/Meadz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misaki and Ruka welcome their first New Year following their ordeal</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> Written for dreamwidth's fic_promptly community. Prompt was "Fatal Frame, surviving cast, New Year celebrations"

       “Are you ready?” Ruka’s calm question disturbed the jumbled chaos of Misaki’s mind, the words just loud enough to be heard from across the room, vibrating off of the wooden floorboards in the main room of the Asou family home. 

“Almost.” She looked at her friend out of the corner of her eyes, her face still turned toward the family shrine though she needed to angle her head somewhat to see Ruka in the glow of the candles. 

Ruka stood on the threshold of the room in her heavy winter kimono.  Its dark patterns made her pale skin stand out and the luminescence of the candles cast an eerie glow upon her face, casting the image of dark circles under her eyes.  Despite the weight of the fabric Ruka held her head high and she clutched a rectangular folder to her chest, large enough for Misaki to guess the contents of paper.  Misaki admired the handiwork of the fabric folder, designed to match the pattern of her kimono.  It made her wonder the purpose of it and how long Ruka had spent planning her New Year’s outfit.

Her gaze returned to the family altar, pushing Ruka’s presence to the back of her mind and performed her routine bows.  She cast a prayer into the universe for the Asou family of the past and, with another bow and folding of her hands, cast forth another prayer for the still living.  When she raised her body from the bow Misaki held her head high and did not look back at the camera which lay by her family’s altar even if she could feel its pull tugging at her.

Ruka’s eyes were on the camera, she noted as she joined her friend on the threshold.  Her brown eyes stared off into the distance and Misaki was not sure if she was lost in thought, a familiar enough habit for Ruka, or if the camera was reaching out to create a trance.  It had been a handy weapon but now Misaki felt it haunting her, urging her to pick it up just once more. 

_Clack!_

The sound of the wooden door sliding shut with force caused Ruka to jump and a mischievously amused smirk was gracing Misaki’s lips.  Not waiting for Ruka to gather herself Misaki moved forward, her steps slow and her posture as perfect as possible as she walked to the doorway of her home.  A hand clutched the heavy fabric of her own dark kimono, lifting it just enough to slide on her shoes by the doorway.  She took the moment to cast another look back at Ruka, checking her condition under the proper lighting.  The shadows under her eyes had not been a trick of the candlelight after all.

“Could you carry that for me?” She gestured to a small, black fabric bag, just large enough to hold the notes and journal she kept inside and not decorated like Ruka’s.  She lacked the foresight her friend had and her plan for the evening was something decided upon last moment. 

A simple nod of the head and soft ‘nn’ was her response.  Misaki waited for Ruka to gather herself and the bags before lifting the mobile wooden shrine in her arms.  The outside flaps were closed, protecting the pictures and candles from the cold wind, and it was heavy enough that she had to hug it to her chest, cradling the weight like a precious child’s. 

“I’m off!” Misaki loudly called out into the large house while Ruka held the door open for her.

“Take care!” Her cousin’s voice answered from the stairway just before the two girls shut the door behind them.  

       It was fortunate for the girls that the weather had chosen to be peaceful for their New Year’s Eve celebrations.  The air was still cold yet the wind was eerily calm considering that their chosen location was the pier they had travelled from often enough on their voyages to the island.  The boats nearby were tied up, the seaside empty of most people since the local festival was held further inland.  Neither girl had been in the mood for normal celebrations after their return.  

Neither girl had been in the mood for present a façade of normalcy upon their return but they had little choice in the matter.  The time between that fateful trip to the island and the oncoming New Year had become a blur in their minds as they trudged through each day, doing their best to not think of the past while forced to answer to questions they could not possibly answer.  Not if they wanted to be considered sane.

Ruka’s soft humming was a calming melody, the sound of her pencil upon music sheets oddly comforting as Misaki fixed her attention upon her task.  A large leather journal sat in her lap, scrapbooking scissors and glue on either side of her, and in front of her were the torn notes, pages and photographs from That Time.  Each one was being carefully cropped by Misaki’s scissors and glued into the larger book.  Each one brought forth one painful memory after another.

At least it was a shared pain.  From time to time Ruka would glance over to see a note or photo, her humming would break off and she would offer a comforting hand upon Misaki’s arm.  She had never realized how much a touch was needed until it was offered.  When the photographs and notes of Madoka appeared Misaki would shake Ruka’s hand off of her arm, instead twisting her hand to grab Ruka’s.  At first it had shocked the quiet girl but after the first few times Ruka had picked up on this behavior and offered her hand to hold while Misaki attempted to glue things with one hand.

       A few hours into their evening her curiosity became too much to handle.  Off and on Ruka would stare off at the wooden shrine they had brought, her eyes reflecting the flickering flames of the candles and Misaki _knew_ she was lost within her mind as she gazed at the pictures of their friends.  Marie, Tomoe and Madoka’s pictures graced the main shelf of the altar, the wooden doors angled to shield the candles from the wind but allowing them to still see their friends’ faces. 

Misaki sighed, breaking Ruka out of her trance. “What are you doing?”

“I’m writing down their melodies.” A soft smile accompanied her words and Misaki glanced at the music sheets.  Ruka’s method of writing down music was odd, normal lines and notes carefully scratched in along figures of nature.  It was something her mother had taught her, Ruka had explained once.  It was a way of creating a melody which she could share with others but only when she was ready.

“So the humming is…” Misaki absentmindedly brushed the scraps of her work into a pile but kept her gaze upon Ruka.

“Yes.  It’s their melodies.  Every person has one and sometimes it changes.  I wanted to make a memorial of their melodies before I can’t hear it anymore.”

Misaki rolled her eyes but said nothing else as she turned back to her work.  Ruka’s humming continued on and, despite pretending otherwise, Misaki allowed herself to be soothed by it.

       “It’s time.” Ruka’s humming had stopped some time ago and Misaki had spent the last hour watching her bind the music sheets into a small packet before being shut inside the fabric folder.  The last of their candles had died away just moments ago.  Just in time for the light of the sunrise to cast a reddish glow upon them and their wooden altar.

“So it is.” Misaki shrugged the blanket off of her and looked over their nesting area of the previous night.  Her body was chilled and ready to return to the warmth of her home but there were a couple acts left to perform in their cleansing ritual.

Ruka took up the task of collecting the used candles and Misaki’s scraps, placing them into a brown knit bag to be disposed of later.  Misaki folded the blanket they had spent the night under, slipping it into her bag alongside her finished scrapbook.  The word ‘Memory’ had been sewn into the top of the book’s binding and flowers bloomed around the kanji. 

Soon all that was left was the mobile wooden altar.  Two bodies bowed toward the altar in silent prayer for their past year.  Without verbal communication the girls grasped their hands together, reaching forward in unison to each shut wooden door over their friend’s faces. 

“Happy New Year, Ruka.” Her words were low, soft in the silence but for once there was no sadness to them.

“Happy New Year, Misaki.” Ruka squeezed her hand before letting go.  Both girls were smiling as Misaki picked up the altar, turned their backs upon the island and moved toward the New Year’s first sunrise.


End file.
